Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
Written And Compiled By E.W. Cole (1832-1918) First Published 1879 By Cole Publications, Melbourne, Australia. 73rd Edition Totalling 920,000 copies. [*]
Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
Or Family Amuser And Instructor; To Delight The Children And Make Home Happier; The Best Child's Picture Book In All The World.
It Contains Also Choice Riddles, Games and pieces of reading for Adults. Look through it yourself.
Long ago the Rainbow was a Sign it is said, Now 'tis the Sign of Cole's Book Arcade. So, when in the sky a bow is displayed, Be sure that you think of the Book Arcade. Cole's Book Arcade strange as it looks, Contains more than a million books. New and second-hand, common and rare, Can get most any book you want there.
[*] BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE: The reprintings of this book since Cole's death in 1918 have involved very few changes, and in most cases it has been bibliographically misleading to term them "editions". Undoubtedly, somewhere in the past, the distinction between a "printing" and an "edition" has not been understood. However, with due cognisance of the irregularity, the practice of giving each reprint a new edition number accompanied by a running sales total is being maintained for statistical interest.
Edward William Cole
Born Woodchurch, Kent, England 4th January, 1832
Died Essendon, Victoria, Australia 16th December, 1918
Australia Is The Best Country On Earth
Australia a Grand Country
I think that Australia, for it's size, is, all-round, the best country in the world. It's climate is pleasant and health-giving. It has no desolating blizzards, no frost bites, and few sunstrokes. In edible produce, for both size and quality, it stands very high, if not the highest. I have been in many lands, but never saw a country supply such a variety of products as Australia does—potatoes, onions, cabbages, carrots, peas, beans and scores of other vegetables in abundance. In fruits it produces apples, pears, plums, peaches, oranges, grapes, and Northern Australia also produces all the tropical fruits in abundance wherever cultivated. In corn Australia produces superior wheat, oats, barley, maize and all other kinds in abundance, especially when scientifically irrigated. As a milk, butter and meat country, it is one of the best in the world. It is the largest and best wool-producing country in the world. It contains the largest area in the world especially suitable for growing cotton, the most extensively-used clothing material. Flowers grow luxuriantly and beautifully whenever cultivated and watered. A few years ago when writing on the "White Australia" question, I stated that with high culture, water irrigation, and scientific irrigation, Australia was capable of supporting 400 millions of inhabitants. A high literary authority, in reviewing the book, remarked that this seemed like a "gross exaggeration"; but probably he had not thought so much on the subject as I had.
I will here concisely state the principle reasons for my opinion. The great want of Australia, to make it amazingly fruitful, is the complete conservation of water and it's scientific application to the soil. Water, warmth, and soil will grow anything in Australia, if rationally managed. Australia has abundance of water now running to waste. On thousands of house-roofs water enough is caught for the domestic use of the respective families. Over large areas of the country there are 30 inches of rainfall, and the average rainfall over vast areas is 24 inches, and could be made much greater by cultivation. Four-fifths of this water now runs to waste. Again surface-parched Australia has vast areas of underground water which only require to be tapped and brought to the surface, to irrigate and fertilise the soil.
Australia is also a country where timber grows well and fast, if planted in trenched ground and slightly irrigated. Hundreds of straight trees can be grown upon an acre of land if they are first planted thickly and some gradually thinned out. Many kinds of trees will grow upon very poor soil if they are properly planted and irrigated, as the bulk of their sustenance is derived from the air. One more remark about trees and their possibilities as food providers. Wherever any kind of tree will grow some kind of fruit tree will grow. There are hundreds of millions of gum trees growing in Australia. Where every one of these trees is, some kind of fruit tree would grow if properly planted and looked after.
Again, to utilise Australia to it's full extent the whole world should be sought through for the best plants and trees of every kind, and only the very best grown, and those in situations and soil best adapted for them.
One argument against Australia is that much of its surface is sandy, but experiments and developments in various countries show that the planting of marram grass, lupins, and other plants ties even the drifting sand together and gradually, through their decay, turns the sandy wastes into fertile soil. Besides, science can, in many other ways, utilise the elements in the air to enrich the soil.
Australia's Mineral Resources
It has been objected that in the above epitome no mention is made of the great mineral wealth of Australia. The reason is that minerals, exceedingly useful as they are in the arts, are not absolutely necessary (with the exception perhaps of iron) to the feeding, clothing, and housing of mankind. Vast multitudes have lived without them; but it may be remarked that Australia is a country very rich in minerals; some hold it the richest in the world. It possesses immense deposits of iron not yet utilised, and the most extensive gold-fields yet discovered. Australia and Tasmania have, according to the latest estimate of our Commonwealth Statistician, produced minerals to the value of L660,252,694—comprising in round numbers, Gold L474,000,000; Tin L24,000,000; and other kinds L8,000,000. The bulk of the above has been produced during the last 60 years, in a population rising from about 300,000 to 4,000,000 and it forecasts how vast the mineral-producing future of Australia is likely to be. Altogether Australia is a country as highly favoured by nature as any other of equal size upon earth, for the bountiful production of useful animals, vegetables, minerals, and men.
The Best Country On Earth—Unknown Australia
"'If we Australians took as much trouble to prepare for our summer as the Canadians take to forestall their winter, Australia would be THE MOST PROSPEROUS COUNTRY ON EARTH.'
The speaker was the Rev. A. R. Edgar, head of the Central Mission, Melbourne.
"'After circling the globe, then, you are still satisfied that Australia is not a bad country to live in?'
"'The best,' said Mr Edgar, emphatically. 'I have no hesitation in saying that Canada and America are not to be compared with Australia. Unfortunately, England doesn't know it. Australia herself doesn't half realise it, and as for America and Canada, they haven't the remotest ghost of a notion of it. In England they learn with regrettable slowness, and their knowledge is scanty indeed; but across the Atlantic the ignorance is deplorable. "Australia?" says the Canadian. "Oh yes! Let's see, that's the place where it's always droughty—yes, yes, to be sure, the place where y' can't get a drink of water." He laughs at the idea of Australia producing as much wool and wheat as Canada, and bluntly tells you there's no country on the face of the planet can grow wheat and wool like his. But the fact is, there isn't a bit of territory fit to compare with the Western District of Victoria, for example, and conditions are infinitely harder for the agriculturist than in Australia. Canada's western district is icebound in winter, and her eastern lands are strewn over with great boulders, between which the plough works laboriously in and out'."—From the "New Idea."
I often feel for the dweller in Canada; for notwithstanding his beautiful spring and autumn he has six months of ice and snow and freezing winds, and I feel selfishly grateful that my lot is cast in more genial Australia.
Let us well ponder Mr. Edgar's concise and forcible statement: "If we Australians took as much trouble to prepare for our summer as the Canadians take to forestall their winter, Australia would be the most prosperous country on earth."
This is quite true. The Canadian must thoughtfully and rationally prepare for his winter, or he would freeze and starve. We have no frigid climate to prepare against, but we have possible drought, and our first and greatest consideration should be the conservation of water for irrigation.
This water conservation is exceedingly important thing. Men do not think, and the waste is enormous. When the rain falls it runs into the gully, from the gully to the creek, from the creek to the river, from the river into the sea; and then in the dry season water is deplorably scarce.
I once asked a young squatter from the New South Wales side of the Murray "Have you got a garden?" He answered: "No: it is too dry up our way!" I said, "How do you get water for domestic purposes?" He answered, "We catch it off the roof; we catch it in 11 tanks and are never out of a supply." I asked, "How large an area have all your roofs put together?" He answered, "I think about 20 feet by 100 feet." This would be about a twentieth of an acre. Now just reflect! One acre of rainfall would supply, if caught, 20 establishments like that squatter's home, for the rain would fall fairly alike over that part of the country. A rainfall of 30 inches over an acre of ground measures about 680,000 gallons and weighs about 3000 tons, the bulk of which is allowed to run away every year!
A gentleman said to me the other day, "Since the water was brought to Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie, under Sir John Forrest's great scheme, they have very beautiful gardens right along the line of supply. Wherever the water touches the land the vegetation is splendid, and, what is more, the evaporation is bringing heavier rainfall." Of course, wherever cultivation and irrigation are carried on, more evaporation takes place, and, in most cases, causes additional rainfall.
When I affirmed that Australia was capable of supporting 400 millions of people I did not mean Australia as we now have it, but as it might be, and probably will be, when water is carefully conserved and its soil scientifically irrigated and cultivated.
[Page 2—Cole's Funny Picture Book]
This Is The Funniest Picture Book In The World For Children
If you search through the World you will not get a book that will so please a child, if you pay L100 or even L1000 for it. To parents, Grandparents, Uncles, Aunts, and Friends—Every Good Child should be given one of these Books for being Good. Every Bad Child should be given one to try to make it Good.
Baby Going to Bed 4 Baby, Getting up 5 This Pig Went to Market 6 Baby Riding 6 Naughty Baby 7
LITTLE CHILDREN'S STORIES
Tom Thumb's Alphabet 8 Sing a Song-a-Sixpence 8 A Apple Pie 8 Captain Duck 8 Hey-Diddle-Diddle 9
Cry-Baby Belle 10 A Naughty Little Girl 10 Paulina Pry 10 Tearful Annie 10 Hattie's Birthday 11 Youth and Age 11 A Lost Child 11 Little Mary 11 Girl and Angel 11 Girl Who Wouldn't go to Bed 12 Girl That Beat Her Sister 12 The Sulky Girl 12 Girl Who Sucked Her Fingers 12 The Greedy Little Girl 12 Girl Who Played With Fire 12 The Vulgar Little Lady 12 Peggy Won't 13 The Wonderful Shadows 13 Little Bo-Peep 14 Pammy Was A Pretty Girl 14 The Little Husband 14 I'm Governess 14 Meddlesome Matty 15 Girl Who Spilled the Ink 15 Girl Who Was Always Tasting 15 Sally the Lazy Girl 15 Girl Who Wouldn't Comb Her Hair 15 The Nasty Cross Girls 15 Little Red Riding Hood 16 I'm Grandmama 16 The Babes in the Wood 16 Cinderella 17 The Three Bears 17 Bluebeard 17 My Girl 18 My Little Daughter's Shoes 18 The Old Cradle 18 A Little Goose 18 Girls 19 Girls Names 19 Vain Sarah 19 Several Kinds of Girls 19 Jumping Jennie 20 I Don't Care 20 Little Miss Meddlesome 20 Careless Matilda 20 Forty Little School Girls 21 Funny Monkeys 21 Tangle Pate 22 A Careless Girl 22 The Naughty Girl 22 Mopy Maria 22 Disobedient May 22 Sluttishness 22 Jane Who Bit Her Nails 22 Poking Fun 22 The Pin 23 Stupid Jane 23 Pouting Polly 23 Untidy Emily 23 Maidenhood 24 Girls That Are in Demand 24 Girls' Names 24 Name of Kate 24 Girl-Scolding Machine 25 Jenny Lee 26 Work Before Play 26 Lucy Grey 26 Mary Had a Little Lamb 26 We Are Seven 27 The poor But Blind Girl 27 Grace Darling 27 The Tidy Girl 27 Ruby Cole 28
Vally Cole 29 Tom The Piper's Son 30 House That Jack Built 31 Simple Simon 31 Ten Little Niggers 31 Jack the Giant Killer 32 Jack and the Beanstalk 32 Hop-o-my-Thumb 33 Tom Thumb 33 Naughty Boys 34 Dirty Jack 35 Mischievous Fingers 35 Boy Stealing Apples 35 Playing With Fire 35 Wicked Willie 36 Rude, Bad, Naughty Boy 36 Little Chinky Chow 37 That Nice Boy 38 A Wicked Joking Boy 38 Jack the Glutton 39 Tom the Dainty Boy 39 A birds Nest Robber 39 A Cruel Boy 39 Boy Whipping Machine 40-41
Puss's Doll 42 Pretty Doll 42 Dolly and I 43 Dolly's Broken Arm 43 Polly and Her Dolly 43 Singing to Dolly 44 My Dolly 44 Dolly's Asleep 44 Lost Dolly 45 Talking To Dolly 45 Darling Dolly 45 Ten Little Dollies 46 Washing-Day Troubles 47 New Tea Things 47 Doll Dress Making 48 Dolly Town 48 The Lost Doll 48 Dolly's Counterpane 48 Sewing For Dolly 48 My Little Doll Rose 48 The Wooden Doll 48 Buy My Dolls 48 Dolly's Doctor 49 Dolly's Broken Nose 49 The Dead Dolly 49 The Soldier Dolly 49 Christening Dolly 50 Maggie's Talk to Dolly 50 Minnie's Talk to Dolly 50 My Dolly 50 Dolly's Wedding 50 Grandmamma's Visit 51 Lucy's Dolls 51 The Doll Show 52 A Doll's Adventures 53 Story of a Doll 53 I'm Homesick Dolly Dear 54 A Thousand Names For Dollies and Babies 55, 56, 57
Good Mamma 58 How They Made Up 58 Cross Patch 58 Sulky Sarah 58 A New Year's Gift 59 Angry Words 59 Love One Another 59 Anger 60 Girl That Beat Her Sister 60 Little Dick Snappy 60 Where Do You Live 61 Govern Your Temper 61 The Ragged Girl's Sunday 62 Foolish Fanny 62 Pride 63 Finery 63 A Fop 63 Greedy Ned 64 Greedy Girl 64 Greedy Richard 64 Story Of an Apple 64 The Plum Cake 65 The Glutton 65 Hoggish Henry 65 Selfishness 65 Truthful Dottie 66 False Alarms 66 Girl That Told A Lie 66 Idle Mary 67 Lazy Sal 67 The Work Bag 67 The Two Gardens 67 Doing Nothing 67 Lazy Sam 68 The Beggar Man 68 Lazyland 68 The Lazy Boy 69 The Sluggard 69 Idle Dicky and the Goat 69 Come and Go 69 The Cruel Boy 70 Story of Cruel Fred 70 The Worm 70 No One Will See Me 71 Boy and His Mother 71 Boys and the Apple Tree 72 Thou Shalt Not Steal 72 The Thief 72 The Thieves' Ladder 73
SANTA CLAUS LAND
Santa Claus Land 74 A Visit From St. Nicholas 75 What Santa Claus Brings 75 Little Mary 75 Christmas 75 Christmas Eve Adventure 76 Little Bennie 76 Old Santa Claus 77 Night Before Christmas 77 Annie and Willie's Prayer 78 Budd's Stocking 79 Christmas Morning 79 Nellie And Santa Claus 80 Hang Up Baby's Stocking 80
Rabbit on the Wall 81 Little Romp 81 Tired of Play 82 The Lost Playmate 82 In The Toy Shop 83 Playing Store 83 Neat Little Clara 83 Hide and Seek 83 Little Sailors 84 Come Out to Play 84 Mud Pies 84 Hay Making 84 Johnny the Stout 85 Training Time 86 Playtime 87 Romping 87 Nurse's Song 87 Swinging 88 Skating 88 The skipping Rope 88 The Baby's Debut 89
Reading 90 Mrs Grammar's Ball 90 Grammar in Rhyme 90 Reading Land 91
Little Flo's Letter 92 The First Letter 92 Baby's Letter to Uncle 92 Nell's Letter 92 Two Letters 92 Going to Write to Papa 93 Papa's Letter 93 Polly's Letter to Ben 94 The Sunday Fisherman 95 Essay on Pictures 96
The New Slate 97 Learning to Draw 98 A Lesson in Drawing 99
OLD MEN TALES
Old Man and His Wife 100 John Ball Shot Them All 100 Funny Old Man 100 Strange Men 100 Jack Sprat 101 Cross Old Man 101 Very Funny Men 101 Utter Nonsense 102 History Of John Gilpin 103 Australian Native Choir 104
OLD WOMEN TALES
Woman Who Lived in a Shoe 106 Mother Goose 107 Old Women of Stepney 107 Funny Old Women 108 Old Woman Who Went Up in a Basket 108 Twenty-six Funny Women 109
Forty Ways of Travelling 110-113 Flying Machines 114-117
555 Boys' Names 118 555 Girls' Names 119
Cole's Game of Hats and Bonnets 120-123 Riddles and Catches 124-127 Picture Puzzles 128-143 Shadows on the Wall 144 Deaf and Dumb Alphabet 145 Language of Flowers 146 Kindness to Animals 147 Funny Australian Natives 148-149
My Pussy 150 Pussy-Cat and Mousey 150 Puss and the Monkey 150 Mary's Puss Drowned 150 Dame Trot's Puss 151 Daddy Hubbard's Cat 152 Story of a Little Mouse 153 Tom, Puss, and the Rats 154 Puss in Boots 155 Monkey and the Cats 155 Dick Whittington 155 More Pussy Land 156 The White Kitten 157 Little Pussy 158 Puss and the Crab 158 Puss in the Corner 159 Tabby 159 Old Puss 159 Dead Kitten 160 My Own Puss 161 Putting Kitty to Bed 161
Mother Hubbard and Dog 162 Puss and Rover 163 No Breakfast for Growler 163 Poor Old Tray 163
O'Grady's Goat 164 The Goat and the Swing 164
Meddlesome Jacko 165 A Fruitless Sorrow 165
The Wonderful Horse 166 The Horse 166 Good Dobbin 166 Horse Sentenced to Die 167 The Arab and His Horse 167 Farmer John 168
The Cottager's Donkey 169 Old Jack the Donkey 169 Poor Donkey's Epitaph 169
The Cow and the Ass 170 The Cowboy's Song 171 That Calf 171
The Lost Lamb 172 The Pet Lamb 172-173
The Pig is a Gentleman 174 Five Little Pigs 174 The Self-willed pig 174 Three Naughty Pigs 175 The Spectre Pig 175 The Chinese Pig 176 Dame Crump and Her Pig 176 Old Woman and Her Pig 177 The Three Little Pigs 177
Disobedient Bunny 178 The Wild Rabbits 178 The Pet Rabbit 178 The Little Hare 179 The Poor Hunted Hare 179 Epitaph on a Hare 179
Pied Piper of Hamelin 180 Wicked Bishop Hatto 181
The Three Mice 182 The Foolish Mouse 182 Run, Mousey, Run! 182 The Gingerbread Cat 182 A Clever Mother Mouse 183 The Mouse's Call 183 The Foolish Mouse 183
The Foolish Frogs 184 Marriage of Mr. Froggie 184 Frogs at School 184 Frog That Went a Wooing 185 Mixed Animal Land 186-187 The Squirrel 188 Wonderful Bird Nests 189 Cole's Poems on Books 190
Serious Sambo 191 Laughter as a Medicine 191 Man Made to Laugh 191 Josh Billings' Prayer 191 Fun Better Than Physic 192 Fun About Music 193 Going to Coles' Book Arcade 194-195 Wonderful Sea Serpent 196 Funny, Foolish and Useful Fashions 197-201 Boy Smoking 202-203 Narcotics and Intoxicants 204 Pipes of the World 205
READER—There are only 365 pieces mentioned in this index, but the Book contains 2,000 pieces and pictures, large and small. It is a complete cyclopoedia of child-lore, and first-class kindergarten book—to amuse and teach at the same time. No child's book ever published has been, nor is now, so great a favourite as this one.
[Page 4—Baby Rhymes]
A Piece of Poetry for Mother and Father to Read
I suppose if all the children, Who have lived through ages long, Were collected and inspected They would make a wondrous throng.
Oh the babble of the Babel! Oh, the flutter and the fuss; To begin with Cain and Abel, And to finish up with us!
Some have never laughed nor spoken, Never used their rosy feet; Some have even flown to heaven, Ere they knew that earth was sweet.
And indeed, I wonder whether, If we reckon every birth, And bring such a flock together, There is room for them on earth.
Think of all the men and women Who are now and who have been; Every nation since creation That this world of ours has seen.
And of all of them not any But was once a baby small; While of children, oh, how many Never have grown up at all.
[Page 5—Baby Rhymes]
Who will wash their smiling faces? Who their saucy ears will box? Who will dress them and caress them? Who will darn their little socks?
Where are arms enough to hold them? Hands to pat each smiling head? Who will praise them? who will scold them? Who will pack them off to bed?
Little happy Christian children, Little savage children too, In all stages of all ages, That our planet ever knew;
Little princes and princesses, Little beggars, wan and faint— Some in very handsome dresses, Naked some, bedaubed with paint.
Only think of the confusion Such a motley crowd would make; And the clatter of their chatter, And the things that they won't break
Oh the babble of the Babel! Oh, the flutter and the fuss; To begin with Cain and Abel, And to finish up with us!
[Page 6—Children's Rhymes]
1. This pig went to market: 2. This pig stayed at home: 3. This pig had meat: 4. This pig had none: 5. And this pig cried, "Wee, wee," all the way home.
Game of Child's Features
Here sits the Lord Mayor! (forehead) Here sits his two men! (eyes) Here sits the cock! (right cheek) Here sits the hen! (left cheek) Here sit the little chickens! (tip of nose) Here they run in; (mouth) Chinchopper, chinchopper, Chinchopper, chin! (chuck the chin)
Ring the bell! (giving its hair a pull) Knock at the door! (tapping its forehead) Draw the latch! (pulling up it's nose) And walk in! (putting finger in mouth)
(Eye) Bo Peeper! (Nose) Nose dreeper! (Chin) Chinchopper! (Teeth) White Lopper! (Mouth) little gap! (Tongue) and red rag!
Game on the Toes
1. Let us go to the wood, says this pig; 2. What to do there? says that pig; 3. Too look for my mother, says this pig; 4. What to do with her? says that pig; 5. Kiss her to death, says this pig.
Going to Market
To market, to market, to buy a fat pig; Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. To market, to market, to buy a fat hog; Home again, home again, joggety-jog.
Ride baby, ride, pretty baby shall ride, And have a little puppy-dog tied to her side. And a little pussy-cat tied to the other, And away she shall ride to see her grand-mother, To see her grandmother.
Ride a Cock-Horse
Ride a cock-horse to banbury-cross, To see what Tommy can buy; A penny white loaf, a penny white cake, And a two-penny apple pie. Ride a cock-horse to banbury-cross, To see a young lady on a white horse, Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes, And so she makes music wherever she goes.
This is the way the ladies ride; Tre, tre, tree, This is the way the ladies ride; Tre, tre, tree. This is the way the gentlemen ride; Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot! This is the way the gentlemen ride; Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot! This is the way the farmers ride; Hobbledy-hobbledy-hoy! This is the way the farmers ride; Hobbledy-hobbledy-hoy!
Clap hands, clap hands, Till father comes home; For father's got money, But mother's got none.
When Dad Comes Home
You shall have an apple, You shall have a plum, You shall have a rattle, When your dad comes home.
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man! So I will, master, as fast as I can, Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T, Put it in the oven for Tommy and me.
Come, Butter, Come
Churn, butter, churn! come, butter, come! Peter stands at the gate, Waiting for a butter cake; Come, butter, come!
When Jacky's a very good boy, He shall have cakes and a custard; But when he does nothing but cry, He shall have nothing but mustard.
[Page 7—Children's Rhymes]
Hickup, go away.
Hickup, hickup, go away! Come again another day: Hickup, hickup, when I bake, I'll give to you a butter-cake.
Dance, little baby, dance up high, Never mind, baby, mother is nigh; Crow and caper, caper and crow— There, little baby, there you go! Up to the ceiling, down to the ground, Backwards and forwards, round and round. Dance, little baby, and mother will sing! Merrily, merrily, ding, dong, ding!
Dance, Little Baby.
Dance to your daddy, My little babby, Dance to your daddy, My little lamb. You shall have a fishy In a little dishy; You shall have a fishy When the boat comes in.
Danty Baby Diddy.
Danty baby diddy, What can a mammy do wid'e, But sit in a lap, And give 'un a pap? Sing danty baby diddy.
Hush-a-bye Baa Lamb.
Hush-a-bye, a baa lamb, Hush-a-by a milk cow, You shall have a little stick To beat the naughty bow-wow.
Bye, Baby Bunting.
Bye, baby bunting, Daddy's gone a hunting, To get a little rabbit skin To wrap a baby bunting in.
Hush-a-bye baby, on the tree top, When the wind blows, the cradle will rock; When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall; Down will come baby, bough, cradle, and all. Hush-a-bye baby, Daddy is near: Mammy's a lady, and that's very clear.
Rock-a-bye baby, thy cradle is green; Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen; And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring, And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king.
My dear cockadoodle, my jewel, my joy, My darling, my honey, my pretty, sweet boy; Before I do rock thee with soft lullaby, Give me thy dear lips to be kiss'd, kiss'd, kiss'd.
Baby, baby, lay your head On your pretty cradle bed; Shut your eye-peeps, now the day And the light are gone away; All the clothes are tucked in tight, Little baby, dear, good night.
Lie still with Daddy.
Hush thee, my babby, Lie still with thy daddy, Thy mammy has gone to the mill, To grind thee some wheat, To make thee some meat, And so, my babby, lie still.
Monkey feeding Baby.
Oh, my lady! my lady! my lady! Here's that funny monkey Has put on your night-cap, And is feeding The baby! the baby! the baby!
Baby getting up
Baby, baby ope your eye, For the sun is in the sky, And he's peeping once again Through the pretty window pane: Little baby, do not keep Any longer fast asleep.
Washing Baby's Hands
Wash hands, wash, Daddy's gone to plough; If you want your hands wash'd, Have them washed now.
Combing Baby's Hair
Comb hair, comb, Daddy's gone to plough; If you want your hair comb'd Have it combed now.
My pretty baby-brother Is six months old to-day, And though he cannot speak, He knows whate'er I say.
Whenever I come near, He crows for very joy; And dearly do I love him, The darling baby-boy.
He opens his mouth when he kisses you; He cries very loud when he misses you; He says "Boo! boo! boo!" for "How-do-you-do?" And he strokes down your face when he's loving you.
Learning to walk alone
Come, my darling, come away, Take a pretty walk to-day; Run along, and never fear, I'll take care of baby dear; Up and down with little feet, That's the way to walk, my sweet.
See-saw sacradown, Which is the way to London town, One foot up is the other down, That is the way to London town.
Baby, baby Charlie, Naughty in his play, Slapping little Annie, Pushing her away.
Patting with his soft hands, Laughing in his fun; Slapping with such good-will, That the tear-drops run.
Do not cry, dear Annie, Wipe away the tear; Keep away from Charlie, Do not come so near,
Or his little hands will Pull your curly hair; Peep at baby, Annie— Peep behind the chair.
Kiss the baby, darling, Kiss the little one; He is only playing, In his baby fun.
[Page 8—Little Children's Stories]
Tom Thumb's Alphabet
A was an archer, who shot at a frog; B was a butcher, who had a great dog; C was a captain, all covered with lace; D was a drunkard, and had a red face; E was an esquire, with pride on his brow; F was a farmer, who followed the plough; G was a gamer, who had but ill luck; H was a hunter, and hunted a buck; I was an innkeeper, who loved to bouse; J was a joiner, and built up a house; K was King William, once governed this land; L was a lady, who had a white hand; M was a miser, and hoarded up gold: N was a nobleman, gallant and bold; O was an oyster girl, and went about town; P was a parson, and wore a black gown; Q was a queen, who wore a silk slip; R was a robber, and wanted a whip; S was a sailor, and spent all he got; T was a tinker, and mended a pot; U was an usurer, a miserable elf; V was a vintner, who drank all himself; W was a watchman, and guarded the door; X was expensive, and so became poor; Y was a youth, that did not love school; Z was a Zany, a poor harmless fool;
Sing a Song-a-Sixpence
Sing a song-a-sixpence, A pocket full of rye; Four-and-twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie; When the pie was opened The birds began to sing: Was that not a dainty dish To set before the king? The king was in his counting-house, Counting out his money, The queen was in the parlour, Eating bread and honey; The maid was in the garden, Hanging out the clothes; Down came a blackbird, And snapt off her nose.
Old Chairs to Mend
If I'd as much money as I could spend, I never would cry old chairs to mend; Old chairs to mend, old chairs to mend; I never would cry old chairs to mend. If I'd as much money as I could tell, I never would cry old clothes to sell; Old clothes to sell, old clothes to sell; I never would cry old clothes to sell.
Dad's gane to Ploo
Cock-a-doodle-doo, My dad's gane to ploo; Mammy's lost her pudding-poke And knows not what to do.
Hot Cross Buns
Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns! One a penny, two a penny, Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns! If you have no daughters, Give them to your sons.
Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit-pie! Come, my ladies, come and buy; Else your babies they will cry.
A apple pie; B bit it; C cut it; D danced for it; E eat it; F fought for it; G got it; H had it; I ignored it; J jumped for it; K kept it; L longed for it; M mourned for it; N nodded at it; O opened it; P peeped in it; Q quartered it; R ran for it; S stole it; T took it; U uncovered it; V viewed it; W wanted it; X ax'ed for it; Y yawned for it: Z cried, "Zounds! let's eat it up."
Three Men in a Tub
Rub a dub, dub, Three men in a tub; And who do you think they were? The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, They all came out of a rotten potato.
Hey ding a ding, what shall I sing? How many holes in a skimmer? Four-and-twenty, my stomach is empty; Pray mamma, give me some dinner.
Barber, barber, shave a pig, How many hairs will make a wig? "Four-and-twenty, that's enough," Give the barber a pinch of snuff.
Punch and Judy
Punch and Judy fought for a pie; Punch gave Judy a blow on the eye.
Pease pudding hot, Pease pudding cold, Pease pudding in the pot, Nine days old.
A little bit of powdered beef, And a great net of cabbage, The best meal I have to-day Is a good bowl of porridge.
The barber shaved the mason, As I suppose cut of his nose, And popp'd it in a basin.
I saw a ship a-sailing, A-sailing on the sea; And, oh! it was all laden With pretty things for thee. There were comfits in the cabin, And apples in the holds; The sails were made of silk, And the masts were made of gold. The four-and-twenty sailors That stood between the decks, Were four-and-twenty white mice, With chains about their necks. The captain was a duck, With a packet on his back; And when the ship began to move, The captain said "Quack quack!"
Little Tee Wee
Little Tee Wee' he went to sea In an open boat; and while afloat The little boat bended, And my story's ended.
[Page 9—Children's Rhymes]
Jack be Quick
Jack be nimble, and Jack be quick; And Jack jump over the candle-stick.
Jack Sprat had a cat, It had but one ear; It went to buy butter When butter was dear.
Little Jack Horner sat in the corner, Eating a Christmas Pie; He put in his thumb, and he took out a plum, And said, "What a good boy am I!"
Little Tom Tucker Sings for his supper; What shall he eat? White bread and butter. How shall he cut it Without e'er a knife? How will he be married Without e'er a wife?
Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, Kissed the girls and made them cry. When the girls came out to play Georgie Porgie ran away.
See-saw, Margery Daw, Little Jacky shall have a new master; Little Jacky shall have but a penny a day, Because he can't work any faster.
Little lad, little lad, where wast thou born? Far off in Lancashire, under a thorn, Where they sup sour milk in a ram's horn.
Handy Spandy, Jack-a-dandy, Loved plum-cake and sugar-candy; He bought some at a grocer's shop, And out he came, hop, hop, hop.
My Son John
Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John Went to bed with his stockings on; One shoe off, the other shoe on. Deedle, deedle, dumpling, my son John
Jack and Jill
Jack and Jill went up the hill, To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after.
Who Can Draw Best
Willie drew a little pig, Harry drew a mouse, Tommy drew a ladder tall Leaning on a house.
Baa, Baa Black Sheep
Baa, baa, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes, marry have I, Three bags full: One for my master, And one for my dame, But none for the little boy Who cries in the lane.
Hey diddle diddle
Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon; The little dog laughed to see such sport, And the dish ran after the spoon.
The Quaker's Version
"Hey! diddle diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped under the moon; The little dog barked to see such sport And the cat ran after the spoon!" [*]
[*] Our friend, the Quaker, holds that the last verse is the proper one, as it is the truest; but the wonderful is taken out of it, and children, accordingly, prefer the first. There is nothing wonderful in the cow jumping "under" the moon, but there is in the cow jumping "over" the moon, so with the black-birds baked in a pie. It is the fact of their singing when the pie is opened that pleases the children—'twas the wonder of the thing; so with the freaks of Mother Hubbard's Dog, etc. In nearly all nursery rhymes it is the ludicrous and wonderful that arrests the attention and pleases. E. W. Cole
There was a little boy, went into a barn, And lay down on some hay; An owl came out, and flew about, And the little boy ran away.
Tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee Resolved to have a battle, For tweedle-dum said tweedle-dee Had spoiled his nice new rattle. Just then flew by a monstrous crow, As big as a tar-barrel, Which frightened both the heroes so, They quite forgot their quarrel.
Baked in a Pie
Baby and I Were baked in a pie, The gravy was wonderful hot; We had nothing to pay To the baker that day And so we crept out of the pot.
Maid not at Home
High diddle doubt, my candle's out, My little maid is not at home; Saddle my hog, and bridle my dog, And fetch my little maid home.
Dame not at Home
Rowsty dowt, my fire's all out, My little dame is not at home; I'll saddle my goose and bridle my hen, And fetch my little dame home again; Home she came, tritty trot; And asked for the porridge she left in the pot.
All in the Dumps
We're all in the dumps, For diamonds are trumps; The kittens are gone to St. Paul's! The babies are bit, The moon's in a fit, And the houses are built without walls.
Blow, wind, blow! and go, mill, go! That the miller may grind his corn; That the baker may take it, And into rolls make it, And send us some hot in the morn. Rosemary green, And lavender blue, Thyme and sweet marjoram, Hyssop and rue.
Come, let's to bed, says Sleepy-head Tarry a while says Slow; Put on the pot, says Greedy-Jock, Let's sup before we go.
Go to Bed First
Go to bed first, A golden purse; Go to bed second, A golden Pheasant; Go to bed third, A golden bird.
[Page 10—Girl Land]
Cry-baby Belle Is always in tears Nothing you can give her can ease her! Sugar and spice, And everything nice, Kisses and cakes will not please her.
She'll cry if she happens To get a slight fall, She'll cry if the naughty boys tease her; She'll cry for a spoon, And she'll cry for the moon; So there's no use in trying to please her.
If the food set before her Don't happen to suit— Oh, then just as loud as she's able, This cry-baby Belle Will set up a yell, And scare all the folks at the table.
If she wants to go out In the street she will cry; If she wants to come in how she screeches! For nothing at all She will set up and bawl, Unmindful of comforting speeches,
She screams in the morning Because she's not dress'd; And at night when they want to undress her More loudly she'll roar, And roll over the floor As if she had pains to distress her.
She cries when she's sick, And she cries when she's well, And often cries when she's sleeping, So that heavy and red, And most out of her head Are her eyes, on account of such weeping.
She always is fretful, Unhappy, and cross, No matter what she may be doing, And cry-baby Belle Pleases nobody well Because of her constant boo-hooing.
For a Naughty Little Girl
My sweet little girl should be careful and mild, And should not be fretful, and cry! Oh! why is this passion? remember, my child, God sees you, who lives in the sky.
That dear little face, which I like so to kiss, How frightful and sad it appears! Do you think I can love you, so naughty as this, Or kiss you so wetted with tears?
Remember, tho' God is in heaven, my love, He sees you within and without, And he always looks down from His glory above, To notice what you are about.
If I am not with you, or if it be dark, And nobody is in the way, His eye is as able your doings to mark, In the night as it is in the day.
Then dry up your tears, and look smiling again And never do things that are wrong; For I'm sure you must feel it a terrible pain, To be naughty, and crying so long.
Paulina Pry Would eat nothing but pie; Pie was her daily diet; Apple or plum, She must have some Or else she wouldn't be quiet.
She would not eat Any bread or meat, Though plenty of these were handy, But would pout and cry For a piece of pie, Or a stick of sugar-candy.
They heard her cry In the Land of Pie, And sent her dozens and dozens, Both tender and tough, Till she'd had more than enough For her sisters, her aunts and her cousins.
Poor little Annie, you will find, Is very gentle, good, and kind, But soon a a fault appears. The slightest thing will give her pain, Her feelings she can ne'er restrain, But gives way to her tears.
The other day when Ferdinand— And if you search throughout the land, No nicer boy you'll find— Said something which he never meant To cause the slightest discontent, For hours she sobbed and whined.
Her father grieved, said: "This must cease We never have a moment's peace, She cries both day and night." A portrait painter then he paid, To paint his little tearful maid, Crying with all her might.
He set to work that very day, Directly he received his pay; The picture soon was done. Yes, there she was, all sobs and sighs, Large tear-drops streaming from her eyes. "How like!" said every one.
It was in truth a great success; Quite perfect, neither more nor less; Her father was so glad. He hung the portrait in her room; It filled her with the deepest gloom; She felt annoyed and sad.
With every relative who came, And saw the picture, 'twas the same, All startled with affright. Uncles, and aunts, and cousins too, Found it so striking, life-like, true That soon they took to flight.
Annie not long could this endure; It brought about a speedy cure, She ceased to cry and moan. Her father ceased to scold and frown, He had the picture taken down, And in the garret thrown.
[Page 11—Girl Land]
Oh! This is a happy, beautiful world! My heart is light and gay; The birds in the trees sing blithely to me And I'm six years old to-day.
Yes, six, and father has bought me a book, And mother, the sweetest doll, All dressed in white with blue eyes bright, And the nicest hat and shawl.
My kitty sat quietly near the fire As Dolly and I came by; Miss Dolly bowed, and pussy meowed, And opened her yellow eye.
Ah me! if Kit could only talk, And Dolly could but chat, We'd social be as any three— Talk, sing, and all of that.
I dressed all up in grandma's cap, And put on her glasses too; "Why, Grandma!" I said, as I looked at myself, "I'm almost as old as you."
My mother softly kissed my cheek, And then she blessed me too, Praying that I, as years went by, Might be as good and true.
My birthday song is a merry one, And my heart is warm and light; Kind father, mother, and dear grandma, Sweet dolly and pussy, good night.
Youth and Age
A funny thing I heard to-day, I might as well relate. Our Lil is six, and little May Still lacks a month of eight.
And, through the open play-room door, I heard the elder say: "Lil, run downstairs and get my doll; Go quick, now—right away!"
And Lillie said—(and I agreed That May was hardly fair):— "You might say 'please,' or go yourself— I didn't leave it there."
"But, Lillie," urged the elder one, "Your little legs, you know, Are younger than mine are, child, And so you ought to go!"
"I would not be a girl," said Jack, "Because they have no fun; They cannot go a-fishing, nor A-shooting with a gun; They cannot climb up trees for fruit, Nor bathe without a bathing dress, Which is no fun at all."
"I would not be a boy," said May, "For boys are nasty things, With pockets filled with hooks and knives, And nails, and tops and strings And when a boy becomes a man, He's got to buy girls rings;"
A Lost Child
"I'm losted! Could you find me, please?" Poor little frightened baby! The wind had tossed her golden fleece, The stones had scratched her dimpled knees, I stooped and lifted her with ease, And softly whispered "Maybe."
"Tell me your name, my little maid: I can't find you without it." "My name is Shiny-eyes," she said, "Yes; but your last name?" She shook her head: "Up to my house 'ey never said A single word about it."
"But, dear," I said, "what is your name?" "Why, didn't you hear me told you? Dust Shiny-eyes." A bright thought came: "Yes, when you're good. But when they blame You little one,—is it just the same When mamma has to scold you?"
"My mamma never scolds," she moans, A little blush ensuing, "'Cept when I've been a-frowing stones; And then she says (the culprit owns),— Mehitabel Sapphira Jones. What has you been a-doing?"
Anna E. Burnham
Here stands little, little Mary, With her face of winning grace, Chattering tongue that runs apace, And her ways contrary
Who so gay as Mary? With her laughs of rippling glee Brimming o'er with melody,— Bonny, blithesome Mary.
Household pet is Mary— Such a merry, joyous sprite, Filling all our home with light— Pretty winsome Mary!
Mischief-loving Mary, Busy as the busiest bee, Full of sunshine, life, and glee Is our heart's sweet Mary!
Girl and Angel
As Peter sat at Heaven's gate A maiden sought permission, And begged of him, if not too late, To give her free admission.
"What claim hast thou to enter here?" He cried with earnest mien. "Please sir," said she, 'twixt hope and fear, "I'm only just sixteen!"
"Enough," the hoary guardian said, And the gate wide open threw. "That is the age when every maid Is girl and angel too."
[Page 12—Naughty Girls]
Girl Who Wouldn't Go to Bed
Once I knew a little girl, Who wouldn't go to bed, And in the morning always had A very sleepy head.
At night she'd stop upon the stairs, And hold the railings tight Then with a puff she'd try to blow Out Mary Ann's rushlight.
The bed at last they tuck'd her in, The light she vow'd to keep; Left in the dark she roar'd and cried; Till tired she went to sleep.
Little Girl that Beat her Sister
Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss Your little sister dear; I must not have such things as this, Nor noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scold and fight Who ought to be so mild; Oh! Mary, 'tis a shocking sight To see an angry child.
I can't imagine for my part, The reason of your folly, As if she did you any hurt By playing with your dolly.
Children Should not Quarrel
Let dogs delight to bark an bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight: For 'tis their nature to.
But children you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.
The Sulky Girl
Why is Mary standing there, Leaning down upon the chair, With pouting lip and frowning brow? I wonder what's the matter now.
Come here, my dear, and tell me true, Is it because I spoke to you About what you just now had done, That you are such a naughty one?
When, then, indeed, I'm grieved to see That you can so ill-tempered be: You make your faults a great deal worse By being sulky and perverse.
Oh! how much better it appears, To see you melting into tears, And then to hear you humbly say, "I'll not do so another day!"
The Little Girl that did not Like to be Washed
What! cry when I wash you! not love to be clean? There, go and be dirty, unfit to be seen; And till you leave off, and I see you have smiled, I'll not take the trouble to wash such a child.
The Girl who Sucked her Fingers
A little girl, named Mary Kate, Whom you may have chance to see, Would have been loved by small and great, But for one thing, which I'll relate; So listen now to me.
A silly habit she's acquired Of putting in her mouth, The pretty fingers of her hand, And sucking them, for hours she'd stand, In a manner most uncouth.
Her play-companions used to laugh, And jeeringly would say, "Oh, pray bring Mary Kate some crumbs, Poor thing! she's dining off her thumbs, She'll eat them all away."
Girl Stealing Treacle
This is Nelly Pilfer; I'll tell you what she earned By stealing off the treacle When Mary's back was turned.
They caught the greedy Nelly With treacle on her hand, They put her in the corner, And there they made her stand.
The Girl who Soiled her Clothes
Little Polly Flinders, Sat among the cinders, Warming her pretty toes; Her mother came and caught her, And scolded her little daughter, For spoiling her nice new clothes.
The Greedy Little Girl
I knew a greedy little girl, Who all day long did roar; Whatever toys were given her, She always wanted more.
Five dolls she had—one was black, A ball and battledore, But held them all so very tight, The roar'd and scream'd for more.
Now this was wicked of the child, As everyone must own; So for the whole of one long day They shut her up alone.
The Girl Who Played with Fire
Mamma, a little girl I met, Had such a scar, I can't forget! All down her arms and neck and face; I could not bear to see the place.
Poor little girl! and don't you know The shocking trick that made her so? 'Twas all because she went and did A thing her mother had forbid.
For once, when nobody was by her, This silly child would play with fire; And long before her mother came, Her pinafore was all in flame.
In vain she tried to put it out, Till all her clothes were burnt about; And then she suffer'd ten times more, All over with a dreadful sore.
For many months before 'twas cured, Both day and night the pain endured; And still you see, when passing by her, How sad it is to play with fire.
Little Miss Consequence
Little Miss Consequence strutted about, Turned up her nose, pointed her toes, And thought herself quite a grand person, no doubt. Gave herself airs; took many cares, To appear old; was haughty and cold. She spoke to the servants like a dog or a cat And fussed about this, and fussed about that.
The Vulgar Little Lady
"But, mamma, now," said Charlotte, "pray don't you believe That I'm better than Jenny my nurse? Only see my red shoes, and the lace on my sleeve; Her clothes are a thousand times worse.
"I ride in my coach, and have nothing to do. And the country folks stare at me so; And nobody dares to control me but you, Because I'm a lady, you know.
"Then servants are vulgar and I am genteel; So, really, 'tis out of the way, To think that I should not be better a deal Than maids, and such people as they."
"Gentility, Charlotte," her mother replied, "Belongs to no station or place; And nothing's so vulgar as folly and pride, Though dressed in red slippers and lace.
"Not all the fine things that fine ladies possess Should teach them the poor to despise; For 'tis in good manners, and not in good dress, That the truest gentility lies."
[Page 13—Naughty Girls]
"I won't be dressed, I won't, I won't!" Cried Peggy one morn to mamma. "Very well, dear," was quietly said, "I'll teach you how silly you are."
Peggy then frowned and set her lips Expecting a kiss as of old, But mother had gravely walked away, And Peggy was getting so cold.
The minutes passed, and Peggy sighed, For thoughts of her breakfast arose, And "Mammy, dear," she loudly wept, While stamping her bare little toes.
Then mother came, and firmly said, "I'm taking you, dear, at your word; 'I won't be dressed—I won't, I won't!' Has many times lately been heard.
"So now to bed, my little maid, For you will not be dressed to-day; Then Peggy will be taught to think Before acting in such a way."
Oh, for the tears that Peggy shed! But now every morn, I am told, A wee young maid is quietly dressed, And is always as good as gold.
"Mamma! I see something Quite dark on the wall;— It moves up and down, And it looks very strange! Sometimes it is large, And sometimes it is small; Pray, tell me what it is, And why does it change?"
"It is Mamma's shadow That puzzles you so, And there is your own Close beside it, my love! Now run round the room, It will go where you go; It rests where you sit, When you rise it will move.
"These wonderful shadows Are caused by the light From fire and from candles Upon us that falls; If we were not here, All that place would be bright, But light can't shine Through us to lighten the wall.
"And when you are out Some fine day in the sun, I'll take you where shadows Of apple-trees lie; And houses and cottages too— Every one Repose on their shadows Beneath the bright sky.
"Now hold up your mouth, And give me a sweet kiss; Our shadows kiss too!— Don't you see it quite plain?" "O yes! and I thank you For telling me this, I'll not be afraid Of a shadow again."
[Page 14—Naughty Girls]
Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep, And can't tell where to find them; Leave them alone, and they'll come home And bring their tails behind them.
Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep, And dreamed she heard them bleating, But when she awoke, 'twas all a joke— Alas! they still were fleeting.
Then up she took her little crook, Determined for to find them; She found them, indeed, bit it made her heart bleed, They'd left their tails behind them.
It happened one day, as Bo-Peep did stray Over the meadows hard by, That there she espied their tails side by side, All hung on a tree to dry.
She heaved a sigh, and gave by-and-by Each careless sheep a banging; And as for the rest, she thought it was best Just to leave their tails a-hanging.
Mary's Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb Whose fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went That Lamb it would not go;
So Mary took that little Lamb And put it on the spit, And soon it was so nicely done She ate it every bit.
Pemmy was a pretty girl, But Fanny was a better; Pemmy look'd like any churl, When little Fanny let her.
Pemmy had a pretty nose, But Fanny had a better; Pemmy oft would come to blows, But Fanny would not let her.
Pemmy had a pretty song, But Fanny had a better; Pemmy would sing all day long, But Fanny would not let her.
I had a little husband, No bigger than my thumb; I put him in a pint pot, And there I bid him drum.
I bought a little horse, That galloped up and down; I bridled him, and saddled him, And sent him out of town.
I gave him some garters, To garter up his hose, And a little handkerchief, To wipe his pretty nose.
Now children dear, you all come near And do not make a noise; But listen here, just take and clear That desk of all those toys.
For now I'm Governess you'll find, That its myself will make you mind; So Alice Brown you do your sum, And Betty Snooks don't look so glum.
And Sarah White sit down at once, And Susan Black you are a dunce, And Annie Grey you needn't think I didn't see you spill the ink.
And find your thimble Maggie More, And mind your sewing Jennie Shore; And Linda Cole you know 'tis wrong To make a stitch two inches long.
And you Kate Ross, stop pinching there, Don't scratch! nor pull your sister's hair; And you, you naughty Lucy Moyes, Must not be talking to the boys.
And Bridget Mace don't make that face; And Norah Finn keep your tongue in. Don't be a Tom-boy Emma Pyke, You really must act lady-like.
Now I want all good children in my school, Don't want a single dunce, bad girl or fool, So I will kindly ask you to be brave, And try to very, very well behave.
Yes all be good and learn your lessons well, And then I'll ring the little bell to tell That school is over for the day, And you can all run out to play.
Little Nellie Nipkin, brisk, and clean, and neat, Keeps a little baby-school in the village street; Teaches little pupils all that she can find, And keeps a little birch that teaches them to mind.
My Mamma's Maid
Dingty diddledy, My mamma's maid, She stole oranges, I'm afraid; Some in her pockets, some in her sleeve, She stole oranges, I believe.
I have a little doll, I take care of her clothes; She has soft flaxen hair, and her name is Rose. She has pretty blue eyes, and a very small nose, And a funny little mouth, and her name is Rose.
As Tommy Snooks and Bessy Brooks Were walking out one Sunday, Says Tommy Snooks to Bessy Brooks, "To-morrow will be Monday."
Little Betty Blue
Little Betty Blue, lost her left shoe, What can little Betty do? Give her another, to match the other, And then she may walk in two.
Cross patch, draw the latch, Sit by the fire and spin; Take a cup, and drink it up, Then call your neighbours in.
Hinx, minx! the old witch winks, The fat begins to fry; There's nobody at home but jumping Joan, Father, mother, and I.
Princess Lost Her Shoe
Doodle, doodle, doo, The Princess lost her shoe; Her highness hopp'd The fiddler stopp'd Not knowing what to do.
The girl in the lane that couldn't speak plain, Cried "Gobble, gobble, gobble;" The man on the hill that couldn't stand still, Went "Hobble, hobble, hobble."
Our Girl's Rabbits
Mary, Kate, and Maria went down as agreed, To the hutch in the garden, the rabbits to feed; There was the mother, a steady old bunny, Moving her nose in a manner so funny.
A young rabbit also, tho' seeming to dose, Kept munching his breakfast and moving his nose; Mary, Kate, and Maria gave the rabbits some food, And lovingly stroked them because they were good.
[Page 15—Naughty Girls]
One ugly trick has often spoiled The sweetest and the best; Matilda, though a pleasant child, One ugly trick possessed, Which, like a cloud before the skies, Hid all her better qualities.
Sometimes she'd lift the teapot lid To peep at what was in it; Or tilt the kettle, if you did But turn your back a minute. In vain you told her not to touch— Her trick of meddling grew so much.
Her grandma went out one day, And by mistake she laid Her spectacles and snuff-box gay Too near the little maid; "Ah! well," thought she, "I'll try them on, As soon as grandmamma is gone,"
Forthwith she placed upon her nose The glasses large and wide; And looking round, as I suppose, The snuff box she too spied: "Oh! what a pretty box is that; I'll open it." said little Matt.
"I know grandmamma would say, 'Don't meddle with it, dear;' But then she's far enough away, And no one else is near; Besides, what can there be amiss In opening such a box as this?"
So thumb and finger went to work To move the stubborn lid; And presently a mighty jerk The mighty mischief did; For all at once, ah! woeful case, The snuff came puffing in her face.
Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth beside, A dismal sight presented; In vain, as bitterly she cried, Her folly she repented. In vain she ran about for ease; She could do nothing now but sneeze.
She dashed the spectacles away, To wipe her tingling eyes; And as in twenty bits they lay, Her grandmamma she spies. "Heyday! and what's the matter now?" Says grandmamma, with lifted brow.
Matilda, smarting with the pain, And tingling still and sore, Made many a promise to refrain From meddling evermore. And 'tis a fact, as I have heard, She ever since has kept her word.
The Girl who Spilled the Ink
"Oh! Lucy! Fanny! Make haste here! Mamma will be so vexed, I fear, For I've upset the ink! See, on my frock and pinafore, Such great black stains! And there are more Upon my socks, I think."
And Lucy cries, with open eyes, And hands extended in surprise, "Oh, naughty Mary Ann, Those stains can never be washed out; Whatever have you been about? Look at her, sister Fan!"
Mamma comes in: "Heyday! what's this? Why, Mary Ann, I told you, Miss, The inkstand ne'er to move; And little girls who won't obey, And mind each word their parents say, Good people ne'er will love."
The Naughty Girl
A naughty girl had got no toy, And didn't know what to do, So she rumpled her frock And tore her sock, And tried to eat her shoe.
The Girl who was Always Tasting
Little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside, Was known as a taster, far and wide; Picking and licking, spying and prying, Each bottle and dish with her fingers trying. Dangerous practice! dreadful little fact is! Once almost poisoned, and very near dying. Little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside, Has got some poison in paper tied; Harmless she deems it, yes, she must taste, Like sugar seems it, ah! but 'tis paste. Rat's-bane, the mixture. Oh! woe the day! Run for the doctor, bid him not stay. Dreadful her anguish—nearly she died, Did little Miss Baster, of Sunnyside.
Children Stealing Jam
Four naughty little children thought Some jam they'd try and steal; But see how nicely they were caught With a crash that made them squeal.
Their mother who was just next door, And heard the horrid noise, Came in and shook those naughty girls, And whipped those naughty boys.
Sally, the Lazy Girl
Her sister would come to the bedside and call, "Do you mean to sleep here all the day?" I saw Kitty Miles up two hours ago, A-washing and working away.
"The water is boiling, the table is spread, Your father is just at the door; If you are not quick, we shall eat all the bread, And you will not find any more."
Then Sally sat up and half opened her eyes, And gave both a grunt and a groan; And yawning she said, in a quarrelsome voice, "I wish you would let me alone."
But though she was lazy, she always could eat, And wished for a plentiful share, So tumbled her clothes on, and smeared her white face, Forgetting her hands and her hair.
Her frock was all crumpled and twisted away, Her hair was entangled and wild, Her stockings were down and her shoes were untied, She looked a most slovenly child.
She sauntered about till the old village clock Had sounded and then died away, Before she put on her torn bonnet and went To school without further delay.
But soon as she came to the little cake shop, She loitered with lingering eyes, Just wishing that she had a penny to spend, For one of the pretty jam pies.
Again she went on, and she loitered again In the same foolish way as before, And the clock in the school was just warning for ten, As she lifted the latch of the door.
The governess frowned as she went to her place, She had often so spoken in vain, And now only said, with a sorrowful sigh, "There's Sally the latest again!"
She hated her reading, and never would write, She neither could cypher nor sew, And little girls whispered, "We never will be So silly as Miss Sally Slow."
Girl who Wouldn't Comb her Hair
I tell you of a little girl, who would herself have been, As pretty a young lady as ever could be seen, But that about her little head she had no cleanly care. And never, never could be made to brush and comb her hair.
She would have been a pretty child, But, oh! she was a fright— She looked just like a girl that's wild, Yes, quite as ugly, quite; She looked just like a girl that's wild— A frightful ugly sight.
The Nasty, Cross Girls
The school was closed one afternoon, And all the girls were gone; Some walked away in company, And some walked on alone.
Some plucked the flowers upon the banks, Some chatted very fast, And some were talking secretly, And whispered as you passed.
And if, perchance, a girl came near, Then one of these would say, "Don't listen to our secrets, Miss, You'll please to go away."
As Nelly White ran home from school, Her work-bag in her hand, She chanced to pass near Lucy Bell, And her friend Susan Brand.
"We don't want you," said Lucy Bell, "You little tiresome chit; Our secrets are not meant for you, You little tell-tale-tit."
Then both girls cried, "Tell-tale-tit," And pushed her roughly by; Poor Nelly said, "I'm no such thing," And then began to cry.
[Page 16—Girl's Stories]
Little Red Riding Hood
Once upon a time there was a dear little girl whose mother made her a scarlet cloak with a hood to tie over her pretty head; so people called her (as a pet name) "Little Red Riding-Hood." One day her mother tied on her cloak and hood and said,
"I wish you to go to-day, my darling, to see your grandmamma, and take her a present of some butter, fresh eggs, a pot of honey, and a little cake with my love."
Little Red Riding-Hood loved her grandmother, and was very glad to go. So she ran gaily through the wood, gathering wild flowers and gambolling among the ferns as she went; and the birds all sang their sweetest songs to her, and the bluebells nodded their pretty heads, for everything loved the gentle child.
By and by a great hungry Wolf came up to her. He wished to eat her up, but as he heard the woodman Hugh's axe at work close by, he was afraid to touch her, for fear she should cry out and he should get killed. So he only asked her where she was going. Little Red Riding-Hood innocently told him (for she did not know he was a wicked Wolf) that she was going to visit her grandmother, who lived in a cottage on the other side of the wood. Then the Wolf made haste, and ran through the wood, and came to the cottage of which the child had told him. He tapped at the door.
"Who's there?" asked the old woman, who lay sick in bed.
"It is Little Red Riding-Hood, Grandmamma," answered the Wolf in a squeaky tone, to imitate the voice of her grandchild.
"Pull the string, and the latch will come up," said the old lady, "for I am ill and cannot open the door."
The cruel Wolf did so, and, jumping on the bed, ate the poor grandmother up.
Then he put on her night-cap and got into bed. By and by Little Red Riding-Hood, who had lingered gathering flowers as she came along, and so was much later than the Wolf, knocked at the door.
"Who's there?" asked the Wolf, mimicking her grandmother's voice. "It is Little Red Riding-Hood, dear Grandmamma," said the child. "Pull the string and the latch will come up," said the Wolf.
So Red Riding-Hood came in, and the Wolf told her to put down her basket, and come and sit on the bed. When Little Red Riding-Hood drew back the curtain and saw the Wolf, she began to be rather frightened and said,
"Dear Grandmamma, what great eyes you have got!" "All the better to see you with, my dear," said the Wolf, who liked a grim joke. "And what a large nose you have, Grandmamma!" cried the child. "All the better to smell you with, my dear." "And, oh! Grandmamma, what long white teeth you have!"
Alas! she reminded the greedy Wolf of eating.
"All the better to eat you with!" he growled; and, jumping out of bed, sprang at Red Riding-Hood.
But just at that moment Hugh the woodman, who had seen the sweet child go by, and had followed her, because he knew there was a Wolf prowling about the forest, burst the door open, and killed the wicked animal with his good axe. Little Red Riding-Hood clung round his neck and thanked him, and cried for joy; and Hugh took her home to her mother; and after that she was never allowed to walk in the greenwood by herself.
It was said at first that the Wolf had eaten the child, but that was not the case; and everybody was glad to hear that the first report was not correct, and that the Wolf had not really killed Little Red Riding-Hood.
Little Miss Jewel
Little Miss Jewel Sat on a stool, Eating of curds and whey; There came a little spider Who sat down beside her, And frightened Miss Jewel away.
Little girl, little girl, where have you been; Gathering Roses to give to the Queen. Little girl, little girl, what gave she you? She gave me a diamond as big as my shoe.
Little Betty Blue
Little Betty Blue lost her pretty shoe; What can Little Betty do? Give her another, to match the other, And then she can walk in two.
Last night when I was in bed, Such fun it seemed to me; I dreamt that I was Grandmamma, And Grandmamma was me.
But she was such a tiny girl, And dressed in baby clothes; And I thought I smacked her face, because She wouldn't blow her nose.
An I went walking up the street, And she ran by my side; And because I walked too quick for her, My goodness, hoe she cried.
And after tea I washed her face; And when her prayers were said, I blew the candle out, and left Poor Grandmamma in bed.
The Babes In The Wood
A long time ago there lived in an old mansion in the country a rich gentleman and his wife, who had two dear little children, of whom they were very fond. Sad to relate, the gentleman and lady were both taken ill, and, feeling they were about to die, sent for the uncle of the children, and begged him to take care of them till they were old enough to inherit the estates.
Now this uncle was a bad and cruel man, who wanted to take the house, the estates, and the money for himself,—so after the death of the parents he began to think how he could best get rid of the children. For some time he kept them till he claimed for them all the goods that should have been theirs. At last he sent for two robbers, who had once been his companions, and showing them the boy and girl, who were at play, offered them a large sum of money to carry them away and never let him see them more.
One of the two robbers began coaxing the little boy and girl, and asking them if they would not like to go out for a nice ride in the woods, each of them on a big horse. The boy said he should if his sister might go too, and the girl said she should not be afraid if her brother went with her. So the two robbers enticed them away from the house, and, mounting their horses, went off into the woods, much to the delight of the children, who were pleased with the great trees, the bright flowers, and the singing of the birds.
Now, one of these men was not so bad and cruel as the other, and he would not consent to kill the poor little creatures, as the other had threatened he would do. He said that they should be left in the woods to stray about, and perhaps they might then escape. This led to a great quarrel between the two, and at last the cruel one jumped off his horse, saying he would kill them, let who would stand in the way. Upon this the other drew his sword to protect the children, and after a fierce fight succeeded in killing his companion.
But though he had saved them from being murdered, he was afraid to take them back or convey them out of the wood, so he pointed out a path, telling them to walk straight on and he would come back to them when he had bought some bread for their supper; he rode away and left them there all alone, with only the trees, and birds and flowers. They loved each other so dearly, and were so bold and happy, that they were not much afraid though they were both very hungry.
The two children soon got out of the path, which led into the thickest part of the wood, and then they wandered farther and farther into the thicket till they were both sadly tired, but they found some wild berries, nuts and fruits, and began to eat them to satisfy their hunger. The dark night came on and the robber did not return. They were cold, and still very hungry, and the boy went about looking for fresh fruit for his sister, and tried to comfort her as they lay down to sleep on the soft moss under the trees.
The next day, and the next, they roamed about, but there was nothing to eat but wild fruits; and they lived on them till they grew so weak that they could not go far from the tree where they had made a little bed of grass and weeds. There they laid down as the shades of night fell upon them, and in the morning they were both in heaven, for they died there in the forest, and as the sun shone upon their little pale faces, the robins and other birds came and covered their bodies with leaves, and so died and were buried the poor Babes in the Wood.
[Page 17—Girl's Stories]
Cinderella's mother died while she was a very little child, leaving her to the care of her father and her step-sisters, who were very much older than herself; for Cinderella's father had been twice married, and her mother was his second wife. Now, Cinderella's sisters did not love her, and were very unkind to her. As she grew older they made her work as a servant, and even sift the cinders: on which account they used to call her in mockery "Cinderella." It was not her real name, but she became afterwards so well known by it that her proper one has been forgotten.
She was a sweet tempered, good girl, however, and everybody except her cruel sisters loved her. It happened, when Cinderella was about seventeen years old, that the King of that country gave a ball, to which all the ladies of the land, and among the rest the young girl's sisters were invited. So they made her dress them for this ball, but never thought of allowing her to go.
"I wish you would take me to the ball with you, sisters," said Cinderella, meekly.
"Take you, indeed!" answered the elder sister with a sneer, "it is no place for a cinder-sifter: stay at home and do your work."
When they were gone, Cinderella, whose heart was sad, sat down and cried; but as she sorrowful, thinking of the unkindness of her sisters, a voice called to her from the garden, and she went to see who was there. It was her godmother, a good old Fairy.
"Do not cry, Cinderella," she said; "you also shall go to the ball, because you are a kind, good girl. Bring me a large pumpkin."
Cinderella obeyed, and the fairy touched it with her wand, turned it into a grand coach. Then she turned a rat into a coach-man, and some mice into footmen; and touching Cinderella with her wand, the poor girl's rags became a rich dress trimmed with costly lace and jewels, and her old shoes became a charming pair of glass slippers, which looked like diamonds. The fairy told her to go to the ball and enjoy herself, but to be sure and leave the ball-room before the clock struck eleven. "If you do not," she said, "your fine clothes will all turn to rags again.
So Cinderella got into the coach, and drove off with her six footmen behind, very splendid to behold, and arrived at the King's Court, where she was received with delight. She was the most beautiful young lady at the ball, and the Prince would dance with no one else. But she made haste to leave before the hour fixed and had time to undress before her sisters came home. They told her a beautiful Princess had been at the ball, with whom the Prince was delighted. They did not know it was Cinderella herself.
Three times Cinderella went to royal balls in this manner, but the third time she forgot the Fairy's command, and heard eleven o'clock strike. She darted out of the ball-room and ran down stairs in a great hurry. But her dress all turned to rags before she left the palace and she lost one of her glass slippers. The Prince sought for her everywhere, but the guard said no one had passed the gate but a poor beggar girl. However, the prince found the slipper, and in order to discover where Cinderella was gone, he had it proclaimed that he would marry the lady who could put on the glass slipper. All the ladies tried to wear the glass slipper in vain, Cinderella's sisters also, but when their young sister begged to be allowed to try it also, it was found to fit her exactly, and to the Prince's delight, she drew the fellow slipper from her pocket, and he knew at once that she was his beautiful partner at the ball. So she was married to the Prince, and the children strewed roses in their path as they came out of church.
Cinderella forgave her sisters, and was so kind to them that she made them truly sorry for their past cruelty and injustice.
The Three Bears
Once upon a time three bears lived in a nice little house in a great forest.
There was Father Bear, Mother Bear, and Baby Bear.
They had each a bed to sleep in, a chair to sit on, and a basin and a spoon for eating porridge, which was their favourite food.
One morning the three bears went to take a walk before breakfast; but before they went out they poured the hot porridge into their basins, that it might get cool by the time they came back. Mr and Mrs Bear walked arm-in-arm, and Baby Bear ran by their side. Now, there lived in that same forest a sweet little girl who was called Golden Hair. She, also, was walking that morning in the wood, and happening to pass by the bear's house, and seeing the window open, she peeped in.
There was no one to be seen, but three basins of steaming hot porridge all ready to be eaten, seemed to say "Come in and have some breakfast." So Golden Hair went in and tasted the porridge in all the basins, then she sat down in Baby Bear's chair, and took up his spoon, and ate up all his porridge. Now this was very wrong. A tiny bear is only a tiny bear, still he has the right to keep his own things. But Golden Hair didn't know any better.
Unluckily, Baby Bear's chair was too small for her, and she broke the seat and fell through, basin and all.
Then Golden Hair went upstairs, and there she saw three beds all in a row. Golden Hair lay down on Father Bear's bed first, but that was too long for her, then she lay down on Mother Bear's bed, and that was too wide for her, last of all she lay down on Baby Bear's bed, and there she fell asleep, for she was tired.
By-and-by the bears came home, and Old Father Bear looked at his chair, and growled:
"Somebody has been here!" Mother Bear growled more softly: "Somebody has been here!"
Baby Bear, seeing his chair broken, squeeled out "Somebody has been here, and broken my chair right through!"
Then they went to the table, and looked at their porridge, and Father Bear Growled:
"Who has touched my basin?" And Mother Bear growled: "Who has touched my basin?" And Baby Bear squeaked: "Somebody has broken mine and eaten up all my porridge!" They went upstairs and Father Bear growled: "Who has been lying on my bed?" And Mother Bear growled: "Who has been lying on my bed?" And Baby Bear squeaked out: "O! here is a little girl in my bed; and it must be she who has eaten my breakfast and broken my chair and basin!" Then Father Bear growled: "Let us eat her up!" Then Mother Bear growled: "Let us eat her up!" And Tiny Bear squeaked: "Let us eat her up!"
But the noise they made awoke Golden Hair; she startled out of bed (on the opposite side) and jumped out of the window. The three bears all jumped out after her, but they fell one on the top of the other, and rolled over and over, and while they were picking themselves up, little Golden Hair ran home, and they were not able to catch her.
Once there lived in a lovely castle a very rich man called Bluebeard. A short distance off lived an old gentleman with two lovely daughters, named Fatima and Annie. Bluebeard visited their house, and at length proposed to Fatima, was accepted by her, and they were married with great splendour. He took her home with him to his castle, and permitted her sister Annie to reside with her for company for a time.
She lived very happily in her new home, her new husband was very kind to her, and allowed her to have everything she wished for, but one day he suddenly told her that business called him away from home, that he should be away some days, and handed her the keys to his wardrobe, treasures, and all parts of the castle, he also gave her one key of a small closet, and told her that she might unlock every door in the castle, but not the closet door, for if she did so, she should not live an hour longer. He then left home fondly kissing her at the door.
Her sister and herself returned into the castle, and enjoyed themselves in unlocking room after room, looking over the curiosities, treasures, &c, until Annie became tired and lay down to rest on a rich sofa, and fell asleep. Fatima, as soon as she saw that her sister was asleep, felt a womanly curiosity, an irresistible temptation to unlock the forbidden closet, and take a peep.
She tripped lightly up to the door, turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and, oh! horror! there were five or six dead ladies lying in the closet, with their marriage rings on their fingers. She at once concluded that they were Bluebeard's previous wives, she let the key drop in her fright into the blood on the floor, she picked it up and attempted to wipe it, but the blood would not come off. She awoke her sister, and they both tried, but they could not get it off, and gave it up in despair.
Just then Bluebeard suddenly returned, and asked his wife if she could please to hand him the keys. She trembling did so. He said "How came the blood on the closet key? You have disobeyed me, and shall die at once."
She begged a few minutes to say her prayers and just as he was going to chop her head off, her two brothers arrived at the castle, burst open the door, killed the cruel wretch, and rescued their sisters.
[Page 18—Girl Land]
A little corner with it's crib. A little mug, a spoon, a bib, A little tooth so pearly white, A little rubber-ring to bite.
A little plate all lettered round, A little rattle to resound, A little creeping—see! she stands! A little step 'twixt outstretched hands.
A little doll with flaxen hair. A little willow rocking chair, A little dress of richest hue, A little pair of gaiters blue.
A little school day after day, A little "schoolma'am" to obey, A little study—soon 'tis past— A little graduate at last.
A little muff for wintry weather, A little jockey-hat and feather, A little sac with funny pockets, A little chain, a ring, and lockets.
A little while to dance and bow, A little escort homeward now, A little party somewhat late, A little lingering at the gate.
A little walk in leafy June, A little talk while shines the moon, A little reference to papa, A little planning with mamma.
A little ceremony grave, A little struggle to be brave, A little cottage on the lawn, A little kiss—my girl was gone!
Good and Bad
There was a little girl, And she had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead When she was good She was very good, But when she was bad, she was horrible.
My little Daughter's Shoes
Two little rough-worn, stubbed shoes A plump, well-trodden pair; With striped stockings thrust within, Lie just beside my chair.
Of very homely fabric they, A hole is in each toe, They might have cost, when they were new, Some fifty cents or so.
And yet this little, worn-out pair Is richer far too me Than all the jewelled sandals are Of Eastern luxury.
This mottled leather, cracked with use, Is satin in my sight; These little tarnished buttons shine With all a diamond's light.
Search through the wardrobe of the world! You shall not find me there So rarely made, so richly wrought, So glorious a pair.
And why? Because they tell of her, Now sound asleep above, Whose form is moving beauty, and Whose heart is beating love.
They tell me of her merry laugh; Her rich, whole-hearted glee; Her gentleness, her innocence, And infant purity.
They tell me that her wavering steps Will long demand my aid; For the old road of human life Is very roughly laid.
High hills and swift descents abound; And, on so rude a way, Feet that can wear these coverings Would surely go astray.
Sweet little girl! be mine the task Thy feeble steps to tend! To be thy guide, thy counsellor, Thy playmate and thy friend!
And when my steps shall faltering grow, And thine be firm and strong, Thy strength shell lead my tottering age In cheerful peace along.
The Old Cradle
And this was your cradle? Why, surely, my Jenny, Such slender dimensions Go somewhat to show You were a delightfully Small picaninny Some nineteen or twenty Short summers ago.
Your baby-day flowed In a much troubled channel; I see you as then In your impotent strife, A tight little bundle Of wailing and flannel, Perplexed with that Newly-found fardel called Life,
To hint at an infantine Frailty is scandal; Let bygones be bygones— And somebody knows It was bliss such a baby To dance and to dandle, Your cheeks were so velvet, So rosy your toes.
Ay, here is your cradle, And Hope, a bright spirit, With love now is watching Beside it, I know. They guard the small nest You yourself did inherit Some nineteen or twenty Short summers ago.
It is Hope gilds the future— Love welcomes it smiling; Thus wags this old world, Therefore stay not to ask, "My future bids fair, Is my future beguiling?" If masked, still it pleases— Then raise not the mask.
Is life a poor coil Some would gladly be doffing? He is riding post-haste Who their wrongs will adjust; For at most 'tis a footstep From cradle to coffin— From a spoonful of pap To a mouthful of dust.
Then smile as your future Is smiling, my Jenny! Tho' blossoms of promise Are lost in the rose, I still see the face Of my small picaninny Unchang'd, for these cheeks Are as blooming as those.
Ay, here is your cradle! Much, much to my liking, Though nineteen or twenty Long winters have sped; But, hark! as I'm talking There's six o'clock striking, It is time Jennie's baby Should be in its bed.
A Little Goose
The chill November day was done, The working world home a-faring, The wind came roaring through the streets, And set the gas lamps flaring.
And hopelessly and aimlessly The seared old leaves were flying, When, mingled with the sighing wind, I heard a small voice crying,
And shivering on the corner stood A child of four or over; No hat nor cloak her small soft arms Or wind-blown curls to cover.
Her dimpled face was stained with tears; Her round blue eyes ran over; She crushed within her wee, cold hands A bunch of faded clover.
And one hand round her treasures, While she slipped in mine the other, Half-scared, half-confidential, said "Oh! please, I want my mother."
"Tell me your street name and number, pet; Don't cry, I'll take you to it," Sobbing, she answered, "I forget— The organ made me do it."
"He came and played at Miller's steps; The monkey took the money; And so I followed down the street, That monkey was so funny.
I've walked about a hundred hours, From one street to another; The monkey's gone; I've spoiled my flowers: Oh! please, I want my mother."
"But what's your mother's name? And what's the street? now think a minute." "My mother's name is mamma dear, The street—I can't begin it."
"But what is strange about the house, Or new—not like the others?" I guess you mean my trundle bed— Mine and my little brother's.
Oh! dear, I ought to be at home, to help him say his prayers; He's such a baby, he forgets, And we are both such players.
"And there's a bar between, to keep From pitching on each other; For Harry rolls when he's asleep— Oh! dear, I want my mother."
The sky grew stormy, people passed, All muffled, homeward faring; "You'll have to spend the night with me," I said at last, despairing.
I spied a ribbon about her neck. "What ribbon's this, my blossom?" "Why, don't you know?" she smiling asked, And drew it from her bosom.
A card with number, street, and name! My eyes astonished, met it. "For," said the little one, "you see I might some tome forget it.
And so I wear a little thing That tells you all about it; For mother says she's very sure I might get lost without it.
Eliza S. Turner
[Page 19—Girl Land]
There's the pretty girl, And the witty girl, And the girl that bangs her hair; The girl that's a flirt, And the girl that is pert, And the girl with the baby stare.
There's the dowdy girl, And the rowdy girl, And the girl that's always late; There's the girl of style, And the girl of wile, And the girl with the mincing gaits
There's the tender girl, And the well-read girl, And the girl with the sense of duty There's the dainty girl And the fainty girl And the girl that has no beauty.
There's the lazy girl, And the daisy girl, And the girl that has two faces; There's the girl that's shy, And the girl that's fly And the girl that bets on races
There are many others, Oh! men and brothers, Than are named in this narration. There are girls and girls, Yet they're all of them pearls, Quite the best sorts in creation.
There is a strange deformity Combined with countless graces, As often in the ladies' names, As in the ladies faces; Some names fit for every age, Some only fit for youth; Some passing sweet and musical, Some horribly uncouth; Some fit for dames of loftiest grades, Some only fit for scullery maids Ann is too plain and common, And Nancy sounds but ill; Yet Anna is endurable, And Annie better still, There is a grace in Charlotte, In Eleanor a state, An elegance in Isabel, A haughtiness in Kate; And Sarah is sedate and neat, And Ellen innocent and sweet Matilda has a sickly sound, Fit for a nurse's trade; Sophie is effeminate, And Esther sage and staid; Elizabeth's a matchless name, Fit for a queen to wear In castle, cottage, hut, or hall— A name beyond compare; And Bess, and Bessie follow well, But Betsy is detestable. Maria is too forward, And Gertrude is too gruff, Yet, coupled with a pretty face, Is pretty name enough' And Adelaide is fanciful, And Laura is too fine, But Emily is beautiful, And Mary is divine Maud only suits a high-born dame, And Fanny is a baby name Eliza is not very choice, Jane is too blunt and Bold, And Martha somewhat sorrowful, And Lucy proud and cold; Amelia is too light and gay, Fit for only a flirt; And Caroline is vain and shy, And Flora smart and pert; Louisa is too soft and sleek But Alice—gentle, chaste and meek And Harriet is confiding, And Clara grave and mild. And Emma is affectionate, And Janet arch and wild! And Patience is expressive, And Grace is cold and rare, And Hannah warm and dutiful, And Margaret frank and fair And Faith, and Hope and Charity Are heavenly names for sisters three.
Oh, Sarah mine, hark to my song Your slumbers soft invading. For here beneath your window-sill I come a-Sarah-nading.
You know my fond heart beats for you In tenderest adoration, And then, you know, I long to have You be my own Sal-vation.
The day's not far when you'll be mine— The thought makes my soul merry; You'll be the pride of all my life, But not my adver-Sarey.
The tender fates shall crown your lot, And sweet contentment parcel; And while you're just the world to me, Love will be univer-Sal.
With bridal altar draped with flowers And everything so tony, In crowded church we will be wed With lots of Sarah-money.
There's nothing I'll not do for you Till life comes to an end, dear. I'd brave the battles of the world And fight a Sara-cen, dear.
I must to sleep, Sal, soda you, For here I must not dally, For that bull-dog I hear, like me, Is bound to have a Sally.
Several Kinds of Girls
A good girl to have—Sal Vation. A disagreeable girl—Anna Mosity. A fighting girl—Hittie Magginn. Not a Christian girl—Hettie Rodoxy. A sweet girl—Carrie Mel. A pleasant girl—Jennie Rosity. A sick girl—Sallie Vate. A smooth girl—Amelia Ration. A seedy girl—Cora Ander. One of the best girls—Ella Gant. A clear case of girl—E. Lucy Date. A geometrical girl—Rhoda Dendron. A musical girl—Sarah Nade. A profound girl—Mettie Physics. A star girl—Meta Oric. A clinging girl—Jessie Mine. A nervous girl—Hester Ical. A muscular girl—Callie Sthenici. A lively girl—Anna Mation. An uncertain girl—Eva Nescent. A sad girl—Ella G. A serene girl—Molly Fy. A great big girl—Ella Phant. A warlike girl—Millie Tary. The best girl of all—Your Own.
[Page 20—Girl Land]
Jennie has a jumping-rope As slender as a whip. And all about the street and house She'd skip, and skip, and skip.
She knocked the vases from the shelf, Upset the stools and chairs, And one unlucky day, alas! Went headlong down the stairs.
Against the wall, against the door Her head she often bumped, And stumbled here, and stumbled there, Yet still she jumped, and jumped.
She jumped so high, she jumped so hard, That—so the story goes— She wore her shoes and stockings out, Likewise her heels and toes.
I Don't Care
Matilda was a pretty girl, And she had flaxen hair; And yet she used those naughty words "I'm sure I do not care."
She once her lessons would not learn, But talk'd about the fair, And lost her tickets, but she said, "I'm sure I do not care."
As she advanced to riper years, I'm sorry to declare, She still preserved those naughty words, "I'm sure I do not care."